Title: Love's A Funny Thing
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Rating: NC-17

Summary: This may be the wierdest thing
I've done yet, and I have no idea whether
it'll work or not. Okay, here goes: Buffy
is a stand up comedian. Spike is the owner
of the comedy club where she's performing.



Part one:


"Anybody recognize this sound? Oooaggghh.
That is the sound of someone who has something really
gross in their mouth that they don't want to swallow."

Perched on a stool in the center of the small stage, Buffy
paused for the giggles in the audience to quiet down.

"You know what I mean....don't you, girls? Oral gratification,
as it's called by people who rarely get any, is a lot trickier
than the romance novels make it seem. The most em-
barrassing...the most FRUSTRATING thing...is being in
bed with a man who doesn't know what the hell he's
doing. A man that's just lousy at it. And you can't tell
them, either. Because you might damage their fragile
little psyches, and then they end up in a clock tower with
a sniper's rifle, and who needs that kind of guilt?"

A small burst of applause accompanied their laughter.

"There's nothing worse than trying to concentrate on
whatever fantasy you've got going, while the guy between
your legs is searching for the right spot with all the finesse
of a rodeo clown. Your clit is right there! YOU can find
it! Why can't they?"

She took a sip of water from a glass one of the waiters
handed her.

"They sure as hell don't have any trouble finding the
opening below it, do they? Shit, no. They've got THAT
calibrated like a blip on a radar screen."

Sighing regretfully, she waited for the laughter to die
down.

"But that's not enough, is it, girls? No. Men...listen to
me; we need you to find that button and push it for all
it's worth. Like you're ringing a doorbell.Leeeannn on it,
boys." Miming, she jabbed her thumb on an imaginary
doorbell several times, then pushed it hard. "And whatever
else you do, don't leave without giving us a chance to get
to the door! We could be on the other side of the house,
for god's sake. Ding-dong-ditch wasn't funny in junior high
school and it's not funny now, I don't care WHAT your
friends tell you!"

Buffy scanned the crowd, mentally choosing who she'd
be talking with later in her act.

"Unfortunately, for most guys, it's hit or miss. Sometimes
they find it, and sometimes they just can't. No matter how much
encouragement you give them; yeah, good, now down a little..no
back up...little bit more...I said a LITTLE bit more! Okay...sorry.
Over...over...over...over...it's not that big an area...no, now
you've gone TOO far over! "

Uncrossing, then recrossing her legs, she shook her head.

"Nope. They can't find it. You can lay there until judgment
day, and it won't matter. And after an hour, you just want to
get it over with. And, guys...you aren't helping matters by
lifting your head every two minutes and saying, "Well?"
Well, WHAT, you selfish bastard? Do I look 'well' to you?
Stop yapping, get back down there and get busy. I'll let you
know when I'm well!"

Looking up, she saw the owner of 'Laughingstock' leaning
against the back wall, his arms folded across his chest.

"And no matter how sub-par their performance is, they all
want to hear a chorus of moaning and groaning and sighing
and sobbing and squealing and 'oh-my-GOD!!!-ing'. And you'd
better by God scream long and loud. They want their friends
in the sports bar on the other side of town to hear you shriek
until your throat bleeds."

She demonstrated by starting a low moan, then gradually
increasing it in volume and pitch, changing to mimic the sound
of a police siren racing through city streets, then to an air raid
warning alarm, slowly letting it wind down.

"THEY want to hear, 'oh, baby...yeah, baby...you're the best,
honey...yeah...doing me so good...', but what YOU want to
say is 'ENOUGH ALREADY!' "

She took another quick peek towards the rear. He was still
there, and he was laughing.

"Cuz it gets uncomfortable after a while, right ladies? You've
been laying there for like...three days...your legs are starting
to cramp up...your muscles atrophy...not to mention the way
your skin feels. Oh, there's nothing worse than getting head
from a guy who hasn't shaved....and YOU have."

Another burst of laughter and applause rocked through the
club.

"That's tender skin down there, boys. Sandpapering it will
NOT get you the results you're hoping for."

Buffy waited out the laughter, trying not to stare at the
owner. Not an easy thing to do, as he was awfully easy on
the eyes.

"Now, men are lucky! No one has to go fumbling around
searching for THEIR sweet spot. It pretty much encompasses
the entire lower half of their bodies. You touch any guy, any
where above the knee...even just a casual pat to say 'Well,
good for YOU', and everything on them leaps to attention like
a trained seal.. Their crotches actually emit a high pitched beep,
telling you where to go. Meanwhile, they can't find a clit with
both hands and a road map."

William McAllister was an inch or so about average height,
and leanly built.

"And they're so impatient. I mean, there you are, you're trying
to make it good...going slowly...moving down...giving them all
the little kisses and touches you THINK they like...and the
next thing you know, they've got their hands on your shoulders,
pushing down hard enough to break your collar bone."

His face was beautifully made, all sharp edges and high
cheekbones.

"But it's even worse when they reach down and grab on to
your hair. Oh, man...you know that's it. You are going down,
and you'd best hustle it up before he gets carried away and
detaches it from your scalp."

His hair was a silky looking mass of loose curls, its dark
roots tipped blonde from a previous bleach job.

"Just try and explain THAT one at Supercuts!; Yeah, yeah,
I know it's on both sides. Never mind what happened, just
fix it!"

The man's eyes were dark blue, intense and sharp as the
rest of him.

"Then there are the guys with....control. God, I hate them.
They've got all the control in the world...except when it's
really needed. The same guys who can hold off an orgasm
until you have a case of temporomandibular joint dysfunction,
will thrust three times, climax, and collapse on you like a
sack of wet cement."

He was dressed all in black. Probably knew how devastating
he looked in it.

"We were talking about the nasty mouthful, right? I swear,
there are some guys who think they're doing you this huge
honor...taking their 'essence'. That's an actual term the
romance novels use to describe semen. 'Essence'. Like it's
a goddamn cologne."

She used a breathy voice, mocking a television commercial.

"Essence. Just a drop or two behind your ears...and no man
will ever...want to touch you again. Essence...by that slob
snoring on your pillow. Available at Macy's...out in the parking
lot, behind a dumpster."

Black silk shirt...black trousers...black necktie. Not a
cheery look, but it worked for him.

"Sometimes, I try to stop before the critical moment, but
that usually pisses them off and they whine about it for an
hour. And some guys try to sneak it past you. Don't even try
giving you the old 'heads up!' . No warning, no nothing...just
a sudden mouthful of something that tastes like salty egg
yolks, and you're trying to keep it away from your taste buds,
so you pull your tongue way into the back of your mouth."

God, he was sexy when he smiled. Smiling was important
to her, and it had been the first thing she'd noticed about him.

"So, THEN what do you do with it? Do you spit it out...do you
swallow it? What's the proper course of action?"

Holding one hand as though it was a piece of paper, she
pretended to write with the other, furrowing her brow thought-
fully. "Hmmm. Dear Miss Manners..."

Such nice, even white teeth he had.

"I don't know what to do. I tried to give it back once, but he
didn't want it either."

Her set was winding up. Jumping down from the stool, she
moved it to the rear of the stage.

"Here's an idea....spit it out in the palm of your hand and
wipe it on the sheets. Let HIM lay in the wet spot, for a
change."

Picking up her water glass, she finished it off.

"Two things. Boys...oral sex is a privilege, not a right. And
girls...oral sex is a right...not a privilege. Which brings us to
the men who don't want to reciprocate and you know who you
are."

She snapped the microphone back into its stand.

"You do them, then go to the bathroom to brush your teeth...be-
cause you have to or they won't kiss you...a minute later you
come back and there he is...sound asleep, like you'd been
gone for days. Just TRY and wake him up. You'd have a better
change of reanimating Elvis."

Placing her hands on her hips, she mimed glaring at an
imaginary bed.

"You know...suddenly that vibrator seems like a real smart
purchase, doesn't it? You're trying to wake this clown up and
he's whining "I'm tired. I can't just turn it off and on like a switch,
you know."

She shrugged. "So you say...'That's okay, honey. I can.' Click.
Bzzzzzzz..."

Blowing her audience a kiss, she thanked them and skipped
down from the stage, heading up the center aisle towards the
rear of the club, reveling in the applause.

Buffy stopped two feet from where Spike was standing. "How'd
I do, boss?"

He smiled that lovely smile again. "Sensational, luv," he said,
slipping one hand behind the back of her neck and leaning down
until she could feel his breath against her skin as he whispered,
"But now all I can think about is going down on you."



TBC.....

Please let me know what you think about
this one. It's different, I know, but does it
work?

Title: Love's A Funny Thing
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Buffy is (believe it or not)
working as a stand up comedian. Spike owns
the club where she's currently performing.



AN: I got a lot of good feedback on the first
chapter of this one. People either really liked it,
or they didn't want to hurt my feelings. In either
case, I decided to see how far I could push it.


Part 2....



The fact that her comedy routine was peppered
with sexual innuendo and questionable language,
did nothing to help Buffy control the blush that suffused
her body as Spike McAllister whispered his naughty
suggestion in her ear.

She couldn't have turned any redder if she'd been doused
with a bucket of tomato soup.

It was embarrassing. A woman who had reached the ripe
old age of twenty-seven, blushing like a sixteen year old
virgin.

Her current employer seemed more amused by her
antics now than he had been by her comments on stage.

"I promise you," he said, tickling her ear with his breath,
"that I definitely know how to do it properly."

Yeah, she just bet he did. He was so damned good
looking, he probably had the the girls lining up for a
demonstration.

Oh, God...NOW what was she doing? She was actually
allowing him to maneuver her back into a dark corner of
the hallway adjacent to the main room.

"I know just where to lick you," he whispered, nuzzling
her throat. "And where to suck...."

Was this sort of thing even legal? It couldn't be.
Employers weren't allowed to talk to their workers this
way....even if those workers had a habit of discussing
their most intimate thoughts and experiences in front of
a crowd of paying customers.

But she wasn't a baby who was going to scream "Sexual
Harassment!!" just because she was on the receiving
end of some slightly risque remarks...and what sounded
like an invitation to sample the man's goods.

"Not that I doubt that you're fully capable of delivering
on that promise," she said, trying to sound as though the
whole thing was a huge joke, "but I have another set to do
in a few minutes and...as good as I'm sure you are...I just
don't have the time."

Shrugging cheerfully, she ducked under his arm and
dashed out into the hallway, plowing right into one of the
bus boys heading towards the kitchen with a bucket of
dirty plates and glasses. She caught his arm and steadied
him, then took off like a bunny running from a hungry fox.

"So, we'll talk later then, luv?" she heard called after her,
but did not respond to.


**************************************************

"I'm sometimes insecure about my looks. I guess a lot of
women are, unless they're the ones doing the back stroke
in the supermodel gene pool. I don't think THEY'RE too
worried. But I go through phases. Sometimes I feel like
I look...not bad...seen worse. Sometimes I actually think
I look pretty good. Those are the times when I'm at my
ideal weight, my skin is clear, and my hair is doing what
I want it to do."

Settling herself on the stool, she sighed.

"But then I'll go through periods of feeling that I look...well,
you've heard the expression "looking like something the cat
dragged in"? I look like something the cat dragged in...then
dragged back out...then back in...then back out...then down a
gravel road...over a patch of cactus...through a land fill...you
know what I mean. I look bad.

Everybody has days like that, right? It's...it's not JUST me,
is it?"

One person clapped a little.

"Oh, thank god. Nice to know I've got company. So...what I do
is pull out all the stops. New hairdo, new make up, new wardrobe,
I do it all. Then I can look at myself in the mirror and say 'I look
damn fantastic for someone who's now nine thousand dollars in
debt.'

Because it's expensive, isn't it? Looking good costs big
bucks. A new hairdo alone can set you back three or four
million dollars...plus tip! But it's worth it. Because you look
absolutely fabulous."

She shook her hair out and tossed her head in a sexy manner.

"For one day," she added, holding up one finger. "Just one. Take
a good long look in the mirror before you leave the salon, girls.
Commit your look to memory, because the minute you step outside
the door, it begins to fall apart. It'll never look the same again..until
your next appointment. I don't care how easy the stylist tells you
your new look is to maintain...it's only easy for HER. For you, it
would be easier to invent cold fusion."

***************************************
Taking a sip of water, she once again saw Spike at the rear
of the club. Their eyes met, and he...ohmygod!! He winked at
her!
***************************************

"Of course she's gonna tell you that all you have to do is
get up in the morning and shake your head three times to the
right, then three times to the left...et viola!"

She gestured grandly with her hands around her head.

"Believe me when I say that the only way it will be "voila" on
a daily basis, is if you conk her over the head, drag her home,
and handcuff her to your bathroom door."


She made eye contact with a man sitting at one of the tables
closest to the stage.

"You men...you're so lucky. You go to get your haircut and it's just
'snip-snip...whatcha been up to lately?...snip-snip...seen any good
movies?...snip-snip...how about them Lakers?...all done, twelve bucks
please...ten minutes tops'. Girls have a whole different experience,
don't we ladies?"

There were several loud words of agreement spoken.

"You know they block off HOURS of time in their appointment
books for women? The only thing we could get done in ten
minutes is....well, there's nothing we could get done in ten
minutes. We have to be evaluated, consulted, washed,
rinsed, washed again, rinsed again, conditioned, cut, colored,
moussed, styled, combed out, blow dried and spritzed. We
go in on Saturday morning, we'll see you sometime Sunday
afternoon."

Buffy waited for the applause to die down.

"Then you pay the bill, and on your way out the door,
you hear your stylist. "Wait a second" she trilled in a
syrupy voice. "Come on over HERE for a moment," she
added, pointing with the style of a game show hostess
showing a prize.

"You turn around and see her standing next to a piece
of furniture three stories high that contains a smorgasbord
of hair care products..." She adopted her 'stylist voice'
again..."not available anywhere else in the known universe!"

Buffy folded her arms and shook her head.

"They want you to buy this stuff because...'You want to
maintain your look....don't you?' Like we're gonna
shrug and say, 'no, not all that much.' Then the stylist
says...'Well! Now that we've got it started...this is your
easy sixteen step daily regimen to keep it that way.' "

"They're very serious about this. They ask you what you've
been using, and no matter what you tell them, they stare
at you in absolute horror. As though you've just admitted
that you wash your hair with a bar of Irish Spring and
condition it with Ajax."

Holding her hands to her cheeks in shocked amazement,
she used her stylist voice again. "Oh, my gosh...oh, my
dear! Thank goodness we've caught you in time. You must
never...EVER...use ANYTHING but our products from now on
or your hair will fall out of your head....and never...grow...
back!"

She made a worried face and checked to make sure her
own hair was still attached.

"By the time they finish telling you what the other products
will do, you believe every word they say. YOU'RE thanking
THEM for rescuing your hair before it was too late. Because
they're the authority, right? They've been to Beauty College. They
KNOW hair, and you wouldn't argue with them any more than
you'd argue with a mechanic about needing a new transmission."

She deepened her tone, and put on a serious face.

"They are the chosen ones, sent by God himself, to lead YOU
through the valley of the shadow of bad hair care. They are like
MOSES...with a brand new set of commandments."

The stage lights dimmed, with one small spot lighting up
her face.

"Thou shall NOT...use inferior products...and you know what they
are. Thou SHALL ...wash every day, in lukewarm water. Thou
SHALL condition every OTHER day. Thou shall NOT...overdo it
with the curling iron. Your hair is burning, you idiot! Can't you
smell it?

Thou SHALL...protect your hair from the sun, the rain, the wind,
the smog, the hole in the ozone, the cheap hair spray.

And the most important commandment of them all...Thou shall
NOT...consult with strange hairstylists, who will tell you anything
different than you've already been told right here."

***********************************
Her applause lasted a good two minutes, thrilling her. She
looked towards the back just in time to see Spike pass his
tongue lightly over his upper lip.

**Good lord!**
**********************************


"Once they get done scaring the crap out of you, you'll
buy everything in sight. 'I'll take one of those...one of those...a
couple of those...two...no, three of those...a case of THAT!' You
want it all, don't you? Well, buy it all, ladies. Your hair
will look gorgeous....for ONE day every eight weeks. Once you
accept that fact, you'll lead a much happier life."


***************************************
With hands that barely trembled, she accepted a glass
of water from a waitress. That man was going to cause
serious upheaval in her nice little life. She was quite sure
of it.
***************************************


"So, why do we do it? Does anybody know why women put
themselves through what would have been considered torture in
the middle ages? Hmm? That's right. We do it for you, men.
Please don't ask us why. We don't know. It doesn't make sense
to go through time consuming, expensive, sometimes painful
procedures...just to please someone else. We don't enjoy it.
We're doing it for you, boys. Love is strange."


****************************************
Why in the world he was singling her out for his attentions,
she didn't know. She found herself to be fairly cute, most of the
time, but this man could have any woman he wanted. He had
the whole package. Looks, sexiness, money, and a brand new,
top of the line, black as sin, Corvette.
****************************************


"I think it's true for most women. Not all women, of course.
There ARE women out there who don't give a damn how they
look...ever! They're drop dead gorgeous and they know it.

They are the 'naturally' beautiful ones. They don't spend a
lot of time on their hair because they get out of bed in the
morning looking like they just spent the night with Monsieur
Henri of Encino...stylist to the stars.

They roll out of the sack, give their head a little shake, and
every single hair falls into formation like a soldier lining up
for reveille. 'We're up! We're here! And we are ready to be
stunning! Don't even bother checking the mirror...we look
fanTAStic! Follicles! Fall in!"


*****************************************
She leaned over and set her water glass carefully on
the floor. When she sat back up and shook her hair out
of her eyes, he was gone.

**Shit!**
*****************************************


"Make up? Don't be ridiculous! You don't need make up!
Swipe on a little cherry chapstick and seize the fucking day!
Boy, there's one of THOSE in every crowd, isn't there?

But most of us have to expend a little effort to look
really good. And we end up spending so much time and
money in that effort, that we really want to be appreciated.

Men of the world....listen up! I've been in that bathroom
for over an hour and someone better...fucking...notice me!"


**************************************

"I noticed you, luv."

Buffy had collapsed on the little sofa in the 'wait room' after
her set. She could hear the routine of the comic following
after her, and she was laughing with her eyes closed, so she
didn't hear the door swing open and closed.

Now, she shot up into a sitting position and stared at
the man standing in front of that door, blocking her exit,
and keeping anyone else from entering.

He'd shed his tie, and had unbuttoned the first two buttons
of his shirt. Leaning back against the door, hands on his
hips, he grinned at her in a way that made her forget her
own name.

"I noticed you the minute you walked in here looking for
a job. And, just in case you're wondering, I think you're.." his
eyes moved up and down her frame slowly, "...very lovely. And
I have nothing but appreciation for everything you do to make
yourself that way."

Oh, boy. Just what she needed. A man who actually
listened! How many of THOSE were out wandering around
loose?

"Thanks," she squeaked, then cleared her throat and tried
again. "Thanks. You're very kind."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not kind at all, pet. But
I DO know what I want."

Buffy took a deep breath.

Oh, man! This was officially her best day EVER!


TBC.....

(Is it working?)

Title: Love's A Funny Thing
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Buffy is (believe it or not)
working as a stand up comedian. Spike owns
the club where she's currently performing.


AN: Once more into the breach...


Part 3...


She had no time to think, no time to decide between
what was right and what was wrong. Her skin felt overly
warm with strange excitement and anticipation.

The man standing on the other side of the room was
making her body go haywire without even trying.

His face was expressive, telling her more than she was
sure she was ready for. His feelings showed with a
captivating sweetness on the sharp contours of his features,
a mixture of high amusement, intense physical attraction,
and a bit of mischief thrown in for luck.

God, he had beautiful eyes. They were a dark, clear
shade of blue, startling against the fairness of his com-
plexion, and they had secrets in them that she wanted to
reveal.

His gaze moved over her, touching her body and
stealing her breath.

From her position of half frozen shock, she watched him
lock the handle of the door. "Please," he said softly, moving
towards her, "don't stay if you don't want to. I'm not one to
keep you here against your will. If you want to leave...nothing
will change. I won't stop you, and your job won't be affected
in any way."

So much for sexual harassment.





*********************************************
"I just ended a really bad relationship. It was good when
it started, don't get me wrong. I'm not stupid enough to
start bad relationships on purpose. It just kind of...fizzled.

But I knew it was coming. All the signs were there,
all pointing me down that dead end street. You know what
I mean, right? When all the little things that you thought
were so cute in the beginning of the relationship, now
just piss the living shit out of you. Make you want to just
kill him and bury him in an unmarked grave.

Like...oh, I don't know...like eating ice cream directly from
the container. I used to think...Oh! We are so close, so
intimate...so in tune with each other. Yum-yum. Give me a
bite...."

A few chuckles and a general nodding of heads were her
response.

"Now, it's like..." She made an angry, disgusted face. "Could
you BE more god damned lazy? You're standing right in front
of the cupboard! Could you please just get a bowl and behave
like civilized people do? Is that TOO fucking much to ask?"

This time, she got a sustained barrage of laughs.

"The times when he would creep up behind you and just
grab you around the waist and hug you and kiss the side
of your neck, and you'd giggle your stupid little head off"

She wrapped her own arms around her waist and wriggled
around as she spoke in a squeally voice.

"Oh! You scared me! Stop! That tickles! Come onnnnn!"

Buffy stopped her antics and placed her hands on her
hips.

"Now..." She turned and shoved away her imaginary
boyfriend. "I said, knock it off! God...you're always
sneaking up on me...Do I LOOK like I think it's funny?
You're in my space!"
*******************************************



He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been
so instantly attracted to a girl.

Not just attracted to her sexuality, but to the whole
package. Her face and form, her intellect and her
humor; all of it combined to present him with a delight-
fully intriguing little challenge.

Spike approached her slowly, not wanting to make her
feel nervous or pressured. He didn't exactly clear a path
for her, but he wouldn't stop her from trying to leave if she
wanted to.

Somehow, he didn't think she wanted to.

When she'd first presented herself in his office, looking
for a chance to perform, he had glanced up and felt an
immediate jolt of attraction. She was such a pretty little
thing, so bright and cheery.

No more than five feet two, and as slender as a young
sapling, she wasn't without her womanly charms. Sunlight
adored her face, her beautiful skin was a perfect example of
the classic 'peaches and cream' complexion, with just a
few small golden freckles scattered across her nose.

And her mouth...God, that mouth. Her lips were soft and
curved like a child's, colored a delicate rose. He'd wanted
to hold her face in his hands and stroke those moist lips
with his thumbs.

Under a fringe of honey brown bangs, her eyes were as
green as grass and they sparkled when she smiled.

She rose to her feet, watching him closely, but she
made no attempt to evade him.

**Ah, I knew this attraction was mutual.**



***********************************************
"He'd bring home the wrong thing from the market, but
you wouldn't care, because he always brought you a little
surprise. You know...a rose, or a funny card, maybe
your favorite candy bar. And you'd say, "Baby, you are
so sweet! Always thinking about me," she cooed in a
sickeningly honeyed voice. "Oooh, I love you, love you,
love you!"

She sipped water while waiting for the laughter to ebb.

"Now...you look at him like he just crawled out from under
the kitchen sink."

Placing her hands on her hips again, she glared at her
non-existent opponent. "Well, WHAT am I supposed to do
with this? Am I supposed to wash my hair with a Snickers
Bar? Why don't you try doing something useful like writing
down what we need at the store, huh? Do I have to do
everything around here?"

Letting a tiny smile play on her lips, she leaned over in
a confiding manner.

"Mine had this thing about buying 'feminine products' for
me. Hated it. Put up a fuss like I'd asked him to fetch me a
container of toxic waste. Sanitary pads...tampons...Monistat
Seven....if it went between my legs, he wasn't buying it. Flat
out refused to even touch the package.

I used to think...that's cute. He's shy and kinda fumbling
about it. Later, it was..."What's the hell is the matter with
you? What...are you worried that the cashier might think
you're buying them for yourself? Act like an adult, for crying
out loud. You know what...if you don't bring that Tampax,
don't bother to come home. Just stay in your car and keep on
going. Start a new life."
**********************************************



Buffy felt a stirring in her lower parts that could only
mean one thing.

This man was turning her on in a way she'd never
quite felt before.

Just the way he was looking at her was making her a
trifle damp. If he touched her, she didn't know what
would happen. How in the world would she control
herself?

But it was going to happen. There was no getting around
it. He was moving closer and she wasn't budging. Any
second now, he'd be close enough to touch.....

He lifted one hand to her cheek, brushing the back of his
fingers over her skin. Her nerves tingled as his hand slowly
skimmed lower, following a lock of hair that lay against
the side of her neck, trailing it down over her collar bone
to the upper swell of her breast. He turned his hand and
pressed gently with his forefinger, circling the firm point
of her nipple.

She felt the heat burning all the way through her blouse
and bra, but couldn't break away from his direct gaze to
try and figure out what the hell was happening.



*********************************************
"Then you get to a point where EVERYTHING irritates
you. Every stupid little thing he does, from what he eats
for breakfast to what channel he watches the 11:00 news
on. He can't do ANYTHING right, can he?"

She saw a couple of women nudging their men playfully.

"He could go out and buy you a brand new car, and you'd
be pissed." Using a picky, bitchy voice, she said, "I hate
black cars. They hold the heat and they always look dirty.
I can't drive a stick, you KNOW that, and there's not a hell of
a lot of trunk space is there? I read about these in Consumer
Digest. Did you know that they tip right OVER if a car pulls up
beside you on the road, and they've now found that the air
bags can kill you. That's right!...Now. what kind of mileage does
this thing get, and oh, that's just great! Just perfect! The gas
tank is on the WRONG side, and now I suppose I'll have to get
rid of all my cassettes and buy CDs."

She stopped and smiled.

"He'd have every right to just punch you dead in the face,
wouldn't he?"

Pulling back her arm, she faked a punch.

"Pow! Out go your lights."
*********************************************



When he'd stood up from behind his desk to shake her
hand that first day, he'd felt a spark flare between them
as their hands clasped.

The warm summer air, combined with the drag of her
shoes over the carpet had created some static electricity
that caused the brief jolt, but he'd preferred a different
explanation.

As far as he'd been concerned, that had been an omen...a
portent...of greater things to come. Someone, somewhere,
was signaling their approval.

It had been all he could do to sound normal and unaffected
by her, especially when he'd felt his dick hardening in his
jeans, throbbing with a need for release. For one horrible
moment, he'd been certain that she knew of his dilemma,
when their eyes had met in a melange of confusion and
recognition, and startled surprise.

And the feeling never went away. It was with him constantly.
Things were not as they'd been with other women he'd
found attractive. When he hadn't actually been with them,
he'd rarely felt anything at all.

But this girl...this five foot nothing, ninety pounds soaking
wet girl, with her bright eyes and dazzling smile, her funny
comments and overpowering sexual allure...was never far
from his mind.

Maybe it was too soon to be making these moves, but,
what the hell? Life was short. When something felt this
right, it would be a crime against nature not to go with
the feeling and see where it might take you.

There was a possibility that it would take you absolutely
nowhere. Then you could chalk it up to experience and
move on.

But the other possibility, the one that was heating his
blood and shortening his breath, THAT was the one that
made it worth the risk.


**********************************************
"When the physical side of the relationship starts to
deteriorate, it goes fast, doesn't it? Like a freight train with
no brakes going downhill. No matter how good the sex
was at one point, you just aren't interested."

Practically everyone in the audience nodded.

"In the beginning, you were doing it once a night and
twice on Sunday. In the middle...at least three times
a week. Towards the end...maybe once every ten days.
But, when that train finally crashes into the side of a
mountain, you can't even REMEMBER the last time you
did it."

She flipped pages in an imaginary day planner.

"Okay...I know it was a Monday night, because I ran out
of KY jelly and I remember getting some the next day from
that store near my mom's house and I visit my mom every
other Tuesday, but....she's been in Europe for the past
six weeks. Hmm. So, it was a Monday, at least six
weeks ago...give or take."

Closing the book, she tossed it over her shoulder.

"Then you start making excuses for not doing it...and
some of them are pretty lame, aren't they?"

Once again, she turned to confront her 'boyfriend'.

"I can't do it tonight. I'm.....having my period!" She
paused. "Yep...seventeen days now. I know, it's
weird, isn't it?." Another pause. "No, I do NOT need
to see a doctor!" She rolled her eyes. "Look...I know
my own body, okay? Now, back off!"

Now, it was the men's turn to nudge their women.

"It gets worse," she continued. "I have a yeast infection...my
back hurts...I have a headache...I have a toothache...leg
cramps...I'm too hungry...I'm too full...I broke a fingernail...
sprained my right ankle...I feel fat today...sprained my LEFT
ankle...trick knee...paper cut...my GUMS are bleeding!
Have a little consideration, will you?"

Buffy smiled at the applause.

"I had it all. I had PRE-menstrual syndrome, DURING-
menstrual syndrome, and POST-menstrual syndrome. I
had the whole month covered."
****************************************


When Buffy's spellbound paralysis finally broke, it
went with a bang.

Spike slipped one hand behind her neck and hauled her
close, plastering her body against his.

"I want you," he whispered, covering her mouth with his
and kissing her deeply.


*******************************************
"Another tell tale sign that things are wrapping up
is when you stop kissing. I don't mean the 'have a nice
day, honey' peck on the cheek, or the half asleep
kiss goodnight.

I'm talking about the serious kissing. The kind you do at
the beginning of your relationship, when you sit on the
couch necking for days at a time and your face is all
scraped by his five o'clock shadow. You don't care. Your
lips could be feeling like they'd been shot full of Novocaine,
but you keep going at it."

She flexed her jaw as though she was easing a muscle
cramp.

"Kissing is great, isn't it? Kissing is one of the best ideas
anyone ever had. It's your first sexual impression. And we
all know how important first impressions are, so your first
sexual one had better pretty damn good if you want to be
around long enough to make another one."
****************************************



His voracious mouth swallowed the soft whimper she
made as he plunged his tongue between her lips,
searching for hers.

She met his wildness with some of her own, sucking
his tongue, changing angles frequently. It was hungry
and ferocious, and everything a first kiss should be.


*****************************************
"When you're being kissed by someone who knows
what they're doing..." She smiled and closed her eyes,
tilting her head back with a dreamy expression on her
face. "there's nothing else like it. Conversely...when
you're being kissed by someone who does NOT know what
they're doing," Her eyes stayed closed, but her smile
disappeared. "there's nothing else like it." She opened
her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "It's SO gross!"

That line got a lot of applause. Buffy grinned. "So, you
know what I'm talking about."

Most everyone in the audience agreed with her.

"Some guys can't kiss. They can't do it properly, and
they shouldn't even try. Kissing is an art. It takes skill.
It takes finesse. It takes sensitivity. It does NOT take
three and a half feet of tongue!"
*******************************************



Sinking one hand into her hair, he pulled on it, arching
her neck. His tongue moved delicately in her mouth,
teasing and tasting, tangling with hers.

Her heart was pounding so hard that she half
expected it to seize up and quit working. She could
feel her pulse pounding in her ears.

"God, you taste sweet," he whispered when he tore
his mouth from hers.

Buffy was floundering. "Tic-Tac," she managed to
gasp.

He grinned devilishly. "Give me more, then."


********************************************
"The tongue is a crucial element in a good kiss. You
have to know what to do with it. How to use it just right
for maximum effect. Not too much...not too little. It must
be light and playful and teasing, and at the same time,
hot and deep and demanding.

It's learned behavior. You're not born with it. It's not
coded into your DNA. It takes practice. That's why you
start when you're around twelve. It's a learn-as-you-
go process. If you have a natural aptitude, you start
being really good at it around...say nineteen or twenty.

If you DON'T have the natural aptitude, but you're willing
to learn, you'll probably have it down before you hit
twenty-five or so."

She sighed deeply.

"If you're a hopeless, tongue ramming clod, just cut
your losses and try to develop other talents. Maybe
kissing's not for you.

I can't stress it enough. You have got to know what to do
with your tongue, and if you don't, then for the love of
God, keep it in your own mouth. Don't shove it down MY
throat! You're not groping for spare change under the
sofa cushions. Just wait right there, and I'LL come
to YOU!"

As the laughs waned, she climbed back onto her
stool.

"You know, over the course of my lifetime, I've been
kissed by some of the best, and a lot of the worst. So,
I can't help thinking that they should teach it in high
school. It should be a mandatory course. Fail...and
you don't graduate with the rest of your class!"

She adopted a "teacher" persona.

"We can't release these people out into the world! We
have to protect the public interest. If they can't pass
Kissing 101, then God only knows what will happen if
they try to have sex! Why it doesn't bear THINKING
about!"

Buffy shuddered in feigned horror.

"But the good kissers? You KNOW they aced that
course. Probably handed in extra credit reports and
stayed after school to study. Just imagine THAT grade
point average!"
**********************************************


Without once breaking their lingual contact, he pushed
her up against a wall, lifting her under her arms.

Buffy gave a little jump, wrapping her legs around his
waist as his hands moved to support her bottom.

Their kisses turned harder and deeper still.


****************************************
"When you're being kissed by a straight A student,
that's a little slice of heaven. The entire world could be
crumbling to pieces around you...volcanoes could be
erupting...earthquakes could be shaking down every
building...tsunami's could be wiping out the entire eastern
seaboard...fucking nuclear WINTER could be setting in...and
you won't care. Just as long as that class valedictorian
has his tongue in your mouth...and his hand on your ass."
*****************************************


TBC...

(Okay, I did my trick. Do I get my treat?)

Title: Love's A Funny Thing
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Buffy is (believe it or not)
working as a stand up comedian. Spike owns
the club where she's currently performing.





Part 4....



Buffy sent all of her doubts into a small corner of
her unconscious mind. This was dangerous behavior
she was exhibiting, with an unpredictable outcome,
but at the moment...she just couldn't force herself to
care.

Spike turned and carried her across the small room
to a small table. He lowered her onto it, then broke their
kiss and straightened up.

With slow, deliberate movements, he popped the top
snap of her jeans and slid the zipper down.

Logic kept trying to barge its way into her brain and
take over the operation of it.

**What are you doing?** it whispered in her
ear. **You're about to have sex with a veritable
stranger.**

'Not a stranger', her body protested strongly, leaning
on the door to keep logic out. 'Go away!'

**This is a bad idea** her brain warned.

'Says YOU!' her body replied. 'I think it's the best idea
we've ever had. I mean, just LOOK at him!'

**You're heading for trouble**

'Who cares?'.

**Fine! When it blows up in your face, don't blame
it on me. I tried.**

'Don't worry, I won't!'

Throwing herself into the action, she lifted her hips
high enough off the table to facilitate the removal of her
jeans and her underpants.

Spike dropped her clothes on the floor, then pushed her
t-shirt and bra up out of his way. His hands went straight
to her breasts, squeezing and stroking them.

"You're so damn beautiful," he said softly. "I can't
imagine any man foolish enough to let you get away."

Buffy smiled. "He didn't 'let' me get away," she in-
formed him. "I just did."



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Another thing I noticed about relationships once they
start going south is that you never go to bed at the same
time anymore. He'll be yawning...stretching...giving you
that 'look'...the one that you now hate with every molecule
in your body."

Holding her arms up, she faked a yawn. "Think I'll turn in
now, honey. You say fine...great...be right there. Then
you wait, hoping he'll fall asleep. You'll be off the hook and
it won't be your fault. The next morning, you can say 'Hey,
what happened last night? I came to bed and you were,
like, unconscious. Wow, you must have been gone before
your head hit the pillow.'

She sighed deeply.

"Problem is that just waiting him out doesn't always
work. He's liable to come back out after ten minutes and
ask you what the hold up is. That's when you have to come
up with things to do, things you absolutely must get done
before you can even THINK of coming to bed."

Addressing the unseen boyfriend, she put on a harried
expression. "I really need to get these Christmas cards
ready to mail. December's only eight months away, and
you KNOW what the post office always says about not
waiting till the last minute. Oh, and I've been meaning
to wallpaper the house for ages and there's no time like
the present. I just have to run out and buy the paper. Back
in a jif!"

When the laughter faded, she glanced over her shoulder
to consult an imaginary list hidden in her hand.

"Ummm...I have FOURTEEN cross word puzzles I've
been trying to catch up on!" she squealed. "Plus...I need
to shampoo the living room rug, look for fleas and
ticks on the dog, replace the battery in the smoke
alarm, adjust the ignition timing on my car, shake
the crumbs out of the toaster, and write a letter to my
Congressman about all those people driving by themselves
in the car pool lanes."

Her audience cracked up, delighting her.

"Comes a time when you'll do anything, SAY anything,
just to avoid sex. Well, anything except tell the damn
truth. Can't do THAT." Making an exasperated face,
she threw her hands up in defeat and shrugged. "You
revolt me...what can I say? Sorry.

But if you don't tell the truth, you're gonna find your
ass in a therapist's office. Because he's going to say, 'I
think we're having a few problems, honey. Maybe we
should get some help...maybe we should see some-
one...maybe we should talk to a professional and get
things back on the right track.

And you're looking at him, thinking...'Maybe you should
just get the the hell out!' "
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



Spike leaned down and buried his face against the
side of her throat, biting just hard enough to sting
a bit, then soothing that sting with the seductive
wash of his tongue.

His hand moved down and caressed her thigh. "Open
up, darling," he whispered hotly against her skin. "Let
me in."

Buffy moaned and did what he wanted, completely
seduced by his voice and those tender, but ravenous
kisses he was covering her with.

He stepped closer to the table, standing between her
dangling legs.

"I'm going to make you come so hard," he told her,
his voice deep with excitement. Slipping his hand
between her thighs, he cupped her sex and squeezed
it firmly. "Right here. I can't wait to feel it when
I'm in you as deep as I can go."

Neither could she!

"That's good, baby," he crooned, as his finger gently
rubbed her labia. "Make it all wet and juicy for me."

Buffy nerve endings were already on high alert, and
every word he spoke, every touch of his hand, just
sent them higher. Without her even telling them to, her
thighs clamped down around his hand and she shimmied
her butt around a little.

He gasped. "Oh, yes...that's the way," he encouraged
her, his tone like hot caramel. "Move your pretty bottom
around...show me how you'll move when my dick is inside
you. Do it!"

Nearly cross eyed with pleasure, Buffy complied.



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"So...after it's all over, you can get back in circulation. It's
exciting, isn't it? Out with the old...in with the new."

She snapped her fingers in a quick rhythm.

"I'm young. I'm...not BAD looking....and now, I'm free! I
can flirt, I can go out, I can dance, I can date!"

Her excited voice went suddenly flat.

"Yippee."

She took a sip of water, then affected a distasteful
look.

"Oh, man," she whined. "Dating in this day and age. I'm
finally back in the game and it's been changed to
Russian Roulette."

She pointed an imaginary gun at her temple, clicking her
tongue; "Perverts." click "Sexually transmitted diseases"
click "Date rape" click "Faulty birth control." click.

She sighed. "It's just a matter of time before one of them
gets ya. I'll admit it. I'm a little afraid to date. Sort of like
I'm afraid to fly. I know the odds of crashing are a million
to one, but all I can see is the one. One's all it takes."

Several heads nodded in agreement.

"But, you have to date...the same way you have to fly. Well,
that's not exactly true, is it? You don't HAVE to fly. You
aren't gonna spend the rest of your life alone because you're
too chicken shit to get on a 747."

One of the young waiters handed her a fresh glass of
ice water.

"Thank you. You're cute," she told him. "Isn't he cute,
ladies?"

There was a lot of applause and a few wolf whistles.

"Calm down, girls. No, seriously...where do you go to meet
guys these days? I'm so out of practice. I see most of you
all in here are coupled up. Where did YOU guys meet?" she
asked a middle aged man and woman at one of the smaller
tables. "A bar?" She repeated the woman's reply so the
audience could hear it. "Is that a good idea? I really want
to know. It is? What bar?... Where's that?...Yeah?...So,
how drunk did he have to get you before you...What?...Two
beers?....Hey, big spender!....That's all it took?...Well, was
it at least imported beer?"

Jumping down from the stool, she placed her glass on it.

"I have this friend who's trying to fix me up with some guy she
works with. A blind date."

The audience groaned.

"Exactly! Talk about Russian Roulette. What are the odds
you're gonna hit the empty chamber? Pre-tty steep.

I hate blind dates, mostly because every one I've ever had
has gone bad. There's a lot of different factors that can
contribute to a bad blind date. Sometimes, you just don't
click, you know? There's no spark...no chemistry. For YOU,
that is. He's already naming your children.

That's the worst feeling ever! You've got nothing. Zip. Zilch.
Ain't gonna happen EVER. Meanwhile, he's proposing
before the appetizer arrives. You're mentally calculating
how long you're gonna have to sit there before you can yell
FOOD POISONING and run out the door. He's writing 'Mr
and Mrs Great Big Loser' on his cocktail napkin, and YOU'RE
writing...'Help me!' on yours."

She waited for the applause to wane.

"So...here it goes. You walk into whatever restaurant
you're supposed to meet him at, and you immediately
zero in on the handsomest, sexiest guy in the room."

She shook her head.

"What are you...crazy? Guys like that don't need fix ups.

Once you admit that the Elle MacPherson look alike
he's sitting with isn't his mother, you start this process of
elimination thing in your head."

She began scanning the men in the audience.

"Okay...it's not the guy in the Century 21 real estate
jacket. It had better NOT be the one stealing maraschino
cherries when the bartender's not looking. Oh, please,
don't let it be the one at the buffet digging in his ear with
his pinky finger."

Making a disgusted face, she bit her lower lip for a
moment.

"Tell me it's not 'Comb Over Guy' or 'Big Hairy Mole'.
And not 'Wet Armpits Man' either. Oh, if it's that guy
with the cold sore I will just....no! Sit down...sit
down...sit the fuck down! Don't look at me like you
know who I am. Just keep walking...I'm not fucking
around here....keep on going because I am absolutely
not interested in you at all since you are totally
not my type...not if you were the last man on the
face of the...Hi, I'm Buffy. You must be Steve."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


One long finger slid inside of her, making her gasp
and raise her hips.

Spike chuckled softly. "You like that?" he asked,
pumping that finger in and out.

She hoped he wasn't expecting some kind of coherent
answer, because she was fresh out!

"Uhhhh," she moaned, nodding agreeably.

"Want more?"

What kind of dumb question was THAT?

"Yeah...more..."

Bending over, he silenced her with a long, savagely
hungry kiss. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

She did. She really, really did.

When his finger slipped out of her, she opened her
eyes, prepared to complain.

Spike didn't give her that chance. He grabbed her
hands and pulled her into a sitting position.

"Here," he instructed her, placing one of her hands
on his hip, and the other one on his zipper. "You
do it. I want to watch you take it out. See those
pretty little hands on me."

It was a good idea for someone whose fingers
weren't clumsy with sexual need. Gamely though,
she forced herself to concentrate on the task set
for her.

The zipper slid down with amazing ease. Slipping
one hand inside his trousers, she was thrown briefly
off course. "You forgot your underwear when you got
dressed."

Spike grinned. "Guess again."

She met his gaze briefly. "Oh. No boxers, no briefs?"
she ventured.

"Clever girl."

Her hand delved deeper, her fingers wrapping around
her target.

She squeezed.

He groaned.

She slid her hand up and down.

He hissed in air between his clenched teeth.

She caressed the head of his penis with her thumb.

He muttered a soft curse.



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"There's usually one guy in the restaurant who prac-
tically screams 'MAKE ME YOUR SEX SLAVE'! One
or two are 'pretty good looking'. One is 'acceptable
as is', and one is 'acceptable after I make a few minor
adjustments'. However...none of THOSE guys are there
for your benefit.

But I sort of pride myself on not being superficial and
shallow. Outward appearances are NOT the measuring
stick whereby people are judged. That's MY motto."

She paused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Waiting a moment longer, she expelled a loud breath of
resignation.

"All right, all right. I'm shallow. Not deep," she con-
fessed. "I'm not the Atlantic Ocean. I'm a puddle...on
a hot day."

Putting up both hands, she turned her face away from
the audience in mock shame. "Don't look at me," she
whimpered. "I'm hideous."

They all laughed, and Buffy peeked out through her
fingers.

"Still, even though I loathe blind dates, I go all out to look
my sexiest best. Been working on myself all day. Bought
a new outfit. Showered with scented soap. Removed
all unwanted hair from my body. Spent an hour on my
make up. I do all this...and the clown I'm trying to impress
didn't even brush his teeth."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Slinging one arm around Spike's neck, Buffy pulled
him into a wet, deep kiss as she pressed the head of his
erection against her opening.

"Mmmmm....wait," he panted, moving back.

If she waited, she was afraid she'd lose her nerve.

"I can't wait," she almost sobbed. "I need you."

"Me, too, baby....but let me get you ready."

"I'm ready, I'm ready! Look at my face. This is a
ready face."

"No," he insisted, urging her to lie back down. "I
can take you higher."

Before she knew what he was about, she felt the
wet lash of his tongue licking her between her legs.
"Oh, all right. Higher's good. Really good."

Her entire body shuddered with helpless pleasure
beneath his relentless mouth. He tongued her clit,
then sucked on it softly.

He was insatiable. Redirecting his mouth, he pushed
his tongue inside her and massaged her clit with his
thumb.

"Oh, my God....you....you weren't kidding..."

"Hmmm?" he murmured.

"You...really know what you're...doing!"

Time no longer had meaning. The only thing in the world
was him, this man bringing her to one delicious peak after
another. Buffy actually lost count of the little 'mini' orgasms
his tongue induced. It all began to run together in one long
endless wave of shivering pleasure.

He licked and sucked at her sensitive flesh as though
he was taking some kind of nourishment from it. His
tongue lapped wetly, she could hear the sounds it was
making, and it drove her arousal to an even higher pitch.





* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Now...we may feel that way...we may want this guy to
disappear from the face of the earth...but he'd better not
feel that way about us. Even if WE don't want HIM, we
want HIM to want US. Does that make sense?"

There was scattered applause.

"Oh, good. See guys, the thing is....we want you to notice
us. We want ALL of you to notice us. Every last one of
you." She snapped her fingers for attention. "Hey! Look
over here! I don't care how happily married a guy is. We
want him to take one look at us and briefly contemplate
leaving his wife and children."

Leaning casually against the stool, she gave the once
over to an imaginary female. "Jesus Christ....will you look
at her! Where the hell were you when I was single?" A
long pause, then, "Fuck it...I'm calling my lawyer."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


When she finally opened her eyes, she caught him
staring at her with a look of absolute delight on his
handsome face.

"You're amazing," he said, kissing the inside of her
thigh.

"M..me? I am?" she panted. "I didn't even do anything
yet."

His grin widened. "Are you joking? You just fell to pieces
in my hands and came in my mouth. I love the way you
lose control like that. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

Buffy cleared her throat. "I don't think I've ever done that
before. Not like that, anyway." She raised herself onto
her elbows. "Oh, don't look so smug. Contrary to what I
say on stage, I'm not overloaded with experience."

Spike placed his hands beneath her bottom and pulled her
towards the edge of the table.

"Well then," he said in a silky tone of voice that made
her shiver. "Are you ready to get a little more under your
belt?"


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"We want to walk into a bar or a restaurant and have
every man in the place trip over his own tongue. We want the
bag boy to follow us around the market, hoping we'll bend
over to get something off a low shelf. We want the guy who
delivers the pizza to wink at us and say, 'No charge, babe'.
We want the cop who stops us to give us a speeding ticket
to....well, not give us a ticket. Is that too much to ask?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



TBC.....
(Soon. If I don't get back to Devlin, there's gonna
be a mutiny!)

Title: Love's A Funny Thing
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Buffy is (believe it or not)
working as a stand up comedian. Spike owns
the club where she's currently performing.





Part 5...


"More experience under my belt?" she asked,
giving him a look. "Is that an on-purpose pun or was
it an accident?"

Spike grinned. "You choose."

"I'll go with the accidental...because if you did that on
purpose, then I can't have anything to do with you."

He looked surprised. "Why not?"

She slipped one hand around the back of his neck. "I'm
in the humor business. I can't be seen with a guy who
makes bad puns on purpose. None of my friends will
ever speak to me again."

"Ah, I see," he nodded. "We'll go with accidental then. But
you never answered my question."

"What was it again?"

"Are you ready for more experience?"

Buffy thought it over. She was definitely ready more of
THIS experience. "One problem," she said.

"What's that, love?"

"My butt hurts on this table. Think we could take this
over to the sofa?"



**************************************************
"Then you start flirting with other men. That's the
beginning of the end. Flirting with other men is like
the safest sex you can have and not be cheating.
Cuz flirting is fun, isn't it? And we've all done it.
Everybody flirts, even if there isn't a chance in ten
million that anything is going to come of it, we still flirt."

A handful of people applauded.

"Freeway flirting. That's a kick. We just love to do that. I
guess because it's so safe. You know you're never going
to see that person again, you don't have to worry about
whether or not you brushed your teeth, or your deodorant
is about to give out. It doesn't matter. You're all safe and
cozy in your car...and you know your exit's coming up."

Situating herself on the stool, she waited for the laughter
to subside.

"For any of you who don't know the drill, this is how
freeway flirtation is played. You notice a car pull up along
next to you and you kind of glance over and check out the
driver. If he's cute, you smile back....sometimes. There's
another way to go. See, you PRETEND to be completely
unaware that you're being checked out while you do cute
little things like checking your makeup in the rear view and
licking your lips. Running your fingers through your hair
and letting it blow in the breeze from the window you just
opened...and don't think he didn't notice you doing that."

"You find a sexy song on the radio and crank it up. You
can sing along if you want to, but don't go overboard. You
don't want him to think you're some kind of nut."

Snapping the microphone into its stand, she held an
imaginary steering wheel.

"Now it's time to test his interest. You speed up a little,
and wait for him to catch up. Then you slow down a bit
and wait for him to drop back. You speed up, slow down,
speed up, slow down...etc. A word of warning...watch
out for cops when you do this. Believe me, there's nothing
sexy OR cute about having to submit to a field sobriety test."

Clutching her 'steering wheel', she made a face.

"So, you do all these things to make him notice; you play
with your hair, you lick your lips, you do everything short
of holding up a sign that says, Hey! You in the BMW!
Yeah, you! This is YOUR lucky day."
**************************************************



"I'm sorry, love." He picked her up and carried her to
the couch. Sitting down, he turned her until she was
straddling his lap. "Is this better?" he asked, fondling
her rear.

His erection was blatantly on display, and she had to
pause to admire it. He had to go a good ten inches,
and it was big the other way as well.

When it came to erect penis', Buffy decided, size might
not be the only indication of ability, but it sure was more
fun to look at.

"Like what you see, baby?"

Looking back up at him, she blushed at being caught
staring. She brazened it out, using her standard method;
humor.

"So far, so good," she shrugged, trying to look only
mildly impressed. "What else you got down there?"
Scooting back on his legs, she pulled his pants the
rest of the way down. "Looks good," she added, wrap-
ping her fingers around his dick. "Feels good, too."

Spike's head dropped back as he closed his eyes,
relishing her touch.

"I wonder how it tastes."

THAT comment brought his head up so fast that she
heard the muscles in his neck pop. "Help yourself,"
he rasped.

"Don't mind if I do." Sliding to the floor, she knelt in
front of him and parted his thighs.



**************************************************
"If things go your way, then he'll be looking at you when
you finally look at him. The timing of this is crucial, and
you have to look a little surprised, as if to say, 'Why, hello!
I didn't even notice you over there, but now that I have, I find
you quite attractive.'

The dance continues. He pulls up a little bit in his lane.
You, not wanting to seem too eager, hang back for
exactly 3.2 seconds. It helps to have a stopwatch
handy. It's gotta be precisely timed, because if he gets
too far ahead of you...well, then you just look pathetic
and desperate trying to catch up."

Turning her 'wheel', she worked an 'accelerator'.

"He moves ahead a little...you move up, too. He drops
back a bit...testing you, I suppose...and you slow down.
He slows down a little more. You slow down, he slows
down. You slow...okay, something's not right here. He's
almost at a dead stop on the I-5."

She gave the other 'car' a perplexed look, then dropped
her hands from the invisible steering wheel.

"This is the moment, folks, when you realize he's NOT flirt-
ing with you. No. He's trying to get AWAY from you."

The club exploded with laughter.

"Yeah...he's AFRAID of you. He's trying to pass you
and get OFF the freeway, even if his exit is still fourteen
miles up the road, he doesn't care. He'd rather run out of
gas and have to hoof it to a service station then take his
chances with you on his tail."

Picking up her water glass, she took a sip.

"But then, things start looking up. Maybe you were wrong,
you think. You must have been, because he's pulling
up beside you again AND he's rolling down his window
to say something. Which is encouraging...until you
hear him holler..." Turning sideways, she cupped
one hand against her mouth. "WHERE THE FUCK DID
YOU LEARN HOW TO DRIVE?"
*************************************************


She'd had him in her mouth for nearly five minutes. He
was lying against the back of the sofa, his face a perfect
picture of bliss, groaning and panting under her touch.

Buffy wasn't all that experienced at this particular form
of foreplay, but she seemed to pleasing him so she threw
herself into her task with abandon.

When she felt one hand playing with her hair, she almost
stopped, remembering that comment from her act.

Then, he did something that could very easily have made
her fall completely in love with him right on the spot. Without
taking his hand from her hair, he brought himself out of the
state of bliss he'd obviously been in long enough to laugh
softly and say, "Don't worry, darling....I won't pull it hard."

Buffy felt her heart expanding. If this had been a movie, she
wouldn't have been surprised to see the room light up with
a heavenly glow while choirs of angels sang Hallelujah.

Finally, a man who understood that sex didn't have to be
a deadly serious endeavor! That it could have light moments
and not lose any of its impact or detract from the pleasure
of it.

Was this guy really too good to be true?

"Don't stop," he whispered, stroking her hair gently. "That's
the sweetest thing I've ever felt."

Sighing softly with her own happiness, Buffy swirled her
tongue around the head of his shaft. Over and over, she
circled the sensitive flesh, dipping the tip of her tongue
into the slit, making him gasp and arch his back as she
tasted the salty drops of semen he produced.

He was far too big for her to take all of him, so she
did the best she could, making up for it by wrapping
her fingers around the wide base, moving the sheath
she'd made of her hand up and down his hard pole. It
slid through her wet fingers easily, generously lubricated
by his excretions.

Then, holding him firmly in place, she slid down as far
as she could go and waited a moment, then pulled her
head back, sucking as hard as she was able.

"Buffy," he groaned. "That feels wonderful...but you
need to stop."


**************************************************
"Sometimes you have to actively TRY to break up a
relationship. I mean, you get to the point where you
can't wait to let nature...or the lack of it...take its
course. Suddenly you realize...'Hey! You ain't getting
any younger. There's an entire generation of nineteen
year old nymphomaniacs coming up, and they're out
there looking."

Targeting an attractive young blonde, she made eye
contact with her.

"Like this one, for instance. How old are you? Twenty-
four? You are not! You're drinking MILK for god's sake!"

She turned her attention to the man sitting at the same
table. "Are you familiar with the term 'jail bait'? No? How
about 'sixteen will get you twenty'?"

Waiting for the laughter to die down, she moved closer
to the edge of the stage.

"You don't believe she's twenty-four, do you? Well, have
you seen her driver's license? What? She won't show
it to you? Oh, well, there you go....bad picture, my aunt
fanny! She doesn't have to show you the picture. She's
hiding something, my friend, you mark my words."

Buffy moved back to the stool and leaned on it.

"Anyway, you want to end the relationship, but you
don't want to do it the EASY way by saying...'I want
to end the relationship. Cuz where's the fun in THAT?

So you start picking fights, for no...good...reason. Your
man will come home from work and say, 'Hi, baby. Did
you have a good...."

She whipped around violently, glaring at her unseen
partner. "GO TO HELL" she screamed. "Always with
the questions?! If I want you to know what kind of day
I had, I'll TELL you what kind of day I had!! It was MY
day! I'm not required to share it with YOU!"

Buffy glared one last time, giving her "boyfriend" a
turned head and stuck up nose.

"At that point, he might try to be extra nice, thereby
sabotaging your plans. Well, you can't let THAT happen!
You'll NEVER get rid of him. So, the nicer he gets, the
nastier you get."

Turning from side to side to carry on a conversation,
she played both parts.

"I don't WANT any dinner, and IF I did, I can feed
myself. I don't need some expensive restaurant to do it
for me!"

"Okay, okay," she held up 'boyfriend' hands, "why don't
you take a long hot bath and relax?"

"Are you implying that I smell bad?!"

"Of course not! No, darling. You smell wonderful. I know!
Why don't we go shopping? We can spend hours at the
mall and I'll buy you a big diamond ring!"

"I don't like diamonds! What the HELL gave you the
idea that I like diamonds? God...do you even know me
AT ALL?"

She flung up her hands in disgust.

"Finally, when you've almost reduced him to tears, he
gives up. He just comes right out and asks, "Honey?
What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Whatever makes you think something's wrong?"

"Well....the gun in your hand?"
**************************************************



Buffy looked up and saw he was serious. His face was
taut with strain and he looked a little sweaty.

But what if this was one of those situations where someone
'said' stop, even though they didn't really want to. Best to
check.

Lifting her head, she asked, "Are you sure?"

He took in and released a deep breath. "Yeah, honey, I'm
sure. I'm about to lose any little bit of control I have left...and
I don't want that to happen just yet."

Sliding both her hands up his thighs, she smiled at
him. "Exactly what DO you want to happen?"

Without skipping a beat, he grinned and winked at her.

"I want to get inside you....right now."

So here it was.

The point of no return.



TBC.....
Comments? Critiques? Whichever. I can take
anything except being laughed at.....no, wait a
minute.....